Writer's Wednesday:Book Signing for Sonia Gensler and Tara Hudson

Tara Hudson and Sonia Gensler with their debut novels

This weekend was The Inkling's annual writing retreat. I'll write more about it on Friday Favorites, but I wanted to share with you the exciting way we ended our weekend--a book signing! Can you think of a better way to punctuate a writing weekend?

Our fellow member Sonia Gensler buddied up with fellow Oklahoman Tara Hudson to have a signing at the 41st Street Barnes and Noble in Tulsa.  (Note to authors: If you'd like to set up a signing, contact the manager Laura Johnson. She's fabulous!) 

Like Sonia's novel, Tara's debut is a young adult ghost story set in rural Oklahoma. 

And it's good.

Part of the audience enraptured by Tara and Sonia

The turnout for the ladies was fabulous. We saw lots of familiar faces from OWFI and SCBWI conferences.  It didn't take long before both authors sold out.  I'm not surprised, though.  Tara and Sonia gave a little talk at the beginning of the session.  They were charming, poised, and funny.  Who wouldn't want to read their books?

Tara Hudson, Martha Bryant, Brandi Barnett, Sonia Gensler, Sonia's biggest fan, and Garrett Barnett

My mom and I rode to the signing with Sonia, so Garrett and Max came to pick us up.  Even in this pic, you can see that Max can't take his eyes off Sonia.  He adores her.  Even though I hadn't seen him in two days due to the retreat, he rushed straight to me and held up his hands. "Hi, Mommy. Where's Sonia?" 

So, if you're looking for a good YA read and you like ghost stories with a romantic twist, check out Tara Hudson's Hereafter and Sonia Gensler's The Revenant.  Tara's is contemporary and Sonia's is historical. Both will give you chills.

Friday Favorite: The Corner of Nice and Neighborly

People often don't want to get involved.

Whether it's food in a coworker's teeth or a pal's open zipper, many won't tell the individual unknowingly making a fool of himself or herself.

Why?

When I was a little girl, I recall sitting in a restaurant when a woman exited the ladies' room trailing toilet paper--with her skirt tucked into her pantyhose.  NO ONE said a word to her, but as she passed tables, EVERYONE talked about her.

Why?

Even as a kid it bothered me, so as she sidled up to the salad bar, I told her.  It was the kind thing to do.

 In the last couple of weeks I've seen two random acts of kindness that warmed my heart.

The first one was when I saw 16-20 people all lifting a trailer, working together to re-hitch what had apparently come undone. They were strangers, but someone needed help.

Then yesterday, in the same intersection, I saw a man jump out of his car into four lanes of traffic to shut an open gas flap on the car in front of him. 

How many people would do that?

Have you witnessed someone help a stranger? Do you have insight as to why some people won't even tell a friend when he or she is unknowingly doing something embarrassing?


Journal: Write about an act of "nice and neighborly" kindness.

Writer's Wednesday: Agent Jennifer Laughran's Word Count Sweet Spots

On March 30, 2011, I posted a blog about word count guidelines as provided by agent Elana Roth.

Now, superstar agent Jennifer Laughran has weighed in on her ideal numbers.  Check out the comments on her blog.

Why do I know Jennifer Laughran is a superstar? Because she's my writing pal Sonia Gensler's agent.  Check out Sonia's young adult paranormal The Revenant--released yesterday!

You can buy yours today.  And believe me when I say it's exactly the right number of words.

Toddler Tuesday: Red Lobster and Fork Lifts

"Lobster, please!"

We couldn't believe that's what he wanted to eat.  Max likes looking at them, but I didn't expect him to want to eat them.  We ordered French fries and lobster tail for our little guy.  Of course, when it landed on the table, he thought the tail had teeth and decided he wasn't touching it. After telling him he couldn't have another fry until he ate a bite of lobster, he rethought his decision.  Cautiously, he nibbled a bite off the fork.

And smiled.

Before long he'd forked up all the lobster his dad had pulled out of the tail, dipped it in butter, and plopped it in his mouth.  He even wanted more.

We may have started an expensive habit.

Surprisingly, Max's first experience with lobsters didn't catch the other patrons' attention as much as his language.

The kid is fascinated with machinery.  He grabbed a fork and pretended he was a fork lift. I thought it was clever.  Unfortunately, when he tried to "lift" his dad with the utensil, he said, "My going to fork you up." In his toddler dialect, the "r" is not pronounced. He repeated it many times--with increasing volume--and it was not pronounced ever.

So, to all the people who gave us dirty looks...he said fork. Fork you up. Really.

Friday Favorite: Miss(ed) Oklahoma

Although she is queen of her domain, my friend Jennifer lives in a neighborhood of princesses and a home of four princes.  When a queen summons, I do her bidding.

She invited me to attend the Miss Oklahoma pageant in Tulsa to support her lovely neighbors. One was contestant Emily Ousley and the other was her "Oklahoma Star," a program in which little girls are mentored by contestants. They were both lovely.

Plus, I saw two OU Tri-Deltas were in the running, so I got all collegiate nostalgic. 

Although we almost missed the pageant.

On the way there, Jen said, "If anyone were with us, they'd kill us."

Yep.  But it was hilarious.

After spending an afternoon with me driving us to pedicures and tea at Dragonmoon Tea Company, Jennifer insisted on driving. She activated her On Star and said, "You have to get this."

Clearly, she didn't yet comprehend the magnitude of my geographical challenges. Like the Bermuda Triangle, my curse soon reached out and grabbed her.  We barreled down the interstate, following the instructions, and encountered a giant "CLOSED" sign plastered across our route.  I laughed at her surprise. This sort of thing always happened to me. She called and gathered new directions. We were to turn on 11th street. Guess what? We were at an intersection where both signs said 11th street. I kid you not. These things happen to me all the time. It's a gift.

The pageant began at 7:30. The rain began at 8:04.  We arrived in the parking lot at 8:08. As we raced toward the Mabee Center, a woman eyeballed us.   I called, "Did we miss the good part?" (Since I've never attended a pageant, I didn't know what that would be, but certainly there is one.)  She encouraged us to hurry because we'd missed the opening number and they were about to announce the top 15.

We never found our seats, but we caught a lot of the show.

In fact, I fear we were part of the show. A pregnant lady in heels.  A tired mom of three under three lugging a good-natured four-month-old. We found seats near her friends at one point, but because Baby J wasn't fond of classical music in the talent competition, we courteously sped out. Let me restate that...Jennifer was courteous. I'm pretty sure I bonked some poor guy on the head with both my purse and her diaper bag.

While watching the swimsuit competition from the aisle, an older gentleman must have been impressed with the soon-to-be crowned Betty Thompson.  He looked me up and down. "Those girls don't understand women don't look like that after thirty."  Hackles raised, I threw my shoulders back and pregnant belly forward.  "Speak for yourself.  After I had my first baby, I looked just like that." I patted my tummy. "You ought to see me next summer when I'm through with this one." 

He had the nerve to grimace like he didn't believe me.

To his credit, I checked myself out in the mirror before I left for the evening and thought remember when someone told you you looked hot, and you knew they weren't thinking you needed an air conditioner and glass of iced tea?

Still... Even queen mothers should be treated with respect or they can be be a royal pain.

Toddler Tuesday: It's Potty Time!

 

Big Boy Pee Pee Chart

Mommy: Let's go to the potty.
Max: (tilts head in consideration) Naw.  My did that last night.  My do that when I'm bigger.

Stellar mother that I am reasoned, he can just wear his soggy diaper until he can't stand it anymore, and then he'll want to be potty trained.

Wrong.

Pull-ups sagging past his knees, he's still disinterested in an alternative method. "No, tank-oo! My alright.  My okay."

This from the kid who refused to eat as a teeny-tiny infant unless his shirt was clean and dry.

People have shared their tricks.
Put Cheerios in the toilet and let him take aim. Little boys love that. 
Maybe. My kid is fickle.  He mastered sinking Cheerios with his first try and has shown no interest since. In fact, I fear he'd prefer to pluck one out and eat it.

Reward him with stickers. 
Yeah, we've done that for months.  Guess what? Now, he's not a big fan of stickers. In fact, if you take the kid to a toy store, he'd rather take home bandaids.

Ask him what it will take.
One couple asked their son this question, and the darling boy said, "I want a dump truck like Max's."  Three days later, their son had a new toy and big boy underwear.

Although bribery never seemed like a good idea before I was a parent, I'm all aboard the bribery train now. But it's not working.

I've stockpiled treasures so Max can select rewards--dinosaurs, boats, a fireman's hat. At a fundraiser, I won a little bike and a flask. His eyes lit up like Santa made it right in front of him. We thought the bike would be the big prize once he'd mastered the cause.

If you have any suggestions, please share.

I have a feeling the flask will get use before the bike.

Friday Favorite: Keen shoes

A few years ago, a student commented I'd never worn the same pair of shoes twice.  It was second semester. I was no Imelda Marcos, but she was right. Shoes were a weakness.

I lead a different life now.

Heels aren't practical while chasing a toddler or pregnant. Neither are they practical when my office parking lot is "paved" in gravel...but that's another blog.

During this pregnancy, it is not uncommon for me to change my shoes four times a day due to discomfort--and I used to happily teach on concrete floors while wearing high heels.

But I really need comfy shoes to get me through this hot summer pregnancy. 

In my experience, if someone says a brand of shoe is comfortable, it's the equivalent of getting set up on a blind date and having the matchmaker stress what a great personality your date has. In either case, you know the recipient of praise is not going to look good and you don't want it touching you.

A couple of years ago, our family friend Paul recommended Keen. Since the day my husband wore his first pair out of the store, he's rarely donned any other kind while not at work. It's a struggle to keep him from sporting the sandals with socks in the winter. (I told him if it embarrassed me, it will mortify his children, but I think that statement only served as incentive.)

Alas, pregnancy makes you do strange things. I made a list of all the comfy shoes people have praised over the years and sought them in stores.

Only Keen has lived up to the hype. 

In my pregnant discomfort, I acquiesced and bought a pair.  The store was out of aqua, so I purchased the bright yellow. I figured if I was going to wear those shoes, I should be bold and truly own the ugly.

I can't believe I'm saying this, but I love them so much, I think I may buy another pair.

Have you tried Keen shoes? Do you have any other comfy shoe suggestions?